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by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fan Characters, M/M, YouTubers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Scott's not a stalker, he's just... passionate.





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Scott gets the YouTube notification on his phone while he’s walking back to the dorms, three folders of loose sheet music tucked under his arm because he forgot his backpack again. He recognizes the vibration pattern and reaches for his pocket automatically, his heart skipping. He only has one channel on notifications.

In a confluence of unfortunate events, Scott’s folders slip from his grasp and he misses the step up from the sidewalk to his building, and his phone tumbles out of his pocket and clatters on the concrete a few feet away. Scott goes down hard on one knee, flinging his hand out to catch the railing for support, though it’s already too late and his knee is probably bleeding under his jeans.

That’s how Kevin finds him a moment later, coming out of the dorms. He helps Scott to his feet, gathers the sheet music that’s scattered on the sidewalk while Scott stoops to pick up his phone. “You sure you’re okay, man?” he asks, and his tone tells Scott that he’d absolutely be late to class if Scott needed help walking up the stairs to their room.

“I’m fine, really,” Scott tells him. “You’re gonna be late, you should go.”

Kevin watches him limp up the few steps to the front door of the building. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Scott says. He remembers belatedly what caused his tumble in the first place, and he’d rather be alone to watch Mitch’s new video anyway. His heart does that fluttery little skip again. He’s watched Mitch’s videos religiously for three years, and the excitement he feels with each upload hasn’t diminished at all. To Megg, he calls Mitch his internet boyfriend. To everyone else, he keeps his obsession quiet, like a dirty little secret, because it’s _weird_ , and Mitch is weird, and no one would understand.

Scott makes his way up to his room as quickly as he can, ignoring the throbbing in his knee. He dumps all his stuff onto the foot of the bed and collapses into his desk chair, twirling quickly to boot up his laptop and open the browser. Mitch’s channel is one of the frequently visited links on his homepage.

**collab 1 (don’t panic)**

In the three years Scott has watched Mitch’s sporadic videos, and the two years before that, Mitch has never done a typical YouTube collab. Some of his early vlogs, from back in high school, featured his friends, but that was before Mitch had a following. It was just Mitch and a girl rehearsing scenes from theater class and giggling, changing the lines to make it inappropriate for a high school stage.

Those videos have since been made private. Everything from before Mitch’s big rebrand—the year he started college—has disappeared from the internet, and Mitch doesn’t have the kind of dedicated followers that would save his videos and share them around. Except for Scott, that is, but at the time, Scott didn’t know how to save videos off the internet.

The new video starts with Mitch’s simple intro, just _the boy princess_ written across the screen, and then Mitch appears. He’s sitting on the floor of his new apartment—there are still boxes behind him, and the room looks pretty bare.

“Hey guys,” he says. “Don’t panic. I’m not turning into one of those stupid collab channels with brand deals and guests and animated endscreens.”

“Hey!” comes another voice from off camera.

Mitch ignores the girl and continues, “I haven’t seen my friend Kirstie in a while and I want her to do my makeup, so here we go.”

Scott rolls his eyes. Mitch is pretty shitty at marketing himself; Scott isn’t so far gone on him that he can’t recognize that. “Girlfriend Does My Makeup” tags are all the rage, and if Mitch retitled his video, he’d probably get a huge influx of new viewers. But popularity has never been Mitch’s goal.

There’s a cut, and then Mitch and a girl are sitting on the floor together, facing each other. And it’s _Kirstie_. Scott doesn’t even watch beauty vloggers and he knows who she is; she’s practically a household name, at least in terms of internet fame. Mitch really should’ve put her name in the title. And her face in the thumbnail. He’d get a few thousand new subscribers in a heartbeat.

Scott picks his jaw up off the floor and settles in to watch the video, his throbbing knee fading to the back of his mind in favor of staring at Mitch’s stupidly beautiful face. Scott rests his chin on his hand and sighs. He doesn’t even like makeup videos, but Mitch and Kirstie are being cute together. She’s giggling at all of his jokes, and they’re chatting softly about nothing in particular. It’s a meandering, pointless sort of video, but Scott is obsessed. He hasn’t seen Mitch interact with anyone in years, and it’s pretty wonderful to see how his sense of humor sparkles when he’s not alone. It’s clear he and Kirstie are real friends, too, not just fake YouTuber friends. They have inside jokes and they’re comfortable enough to tease each other and laugh it off.

And then, like a bolt of lightning striking, Scott realizes that Kirstie is the girl from Mitch’s old vlogs, the deleted ones. The ones that only had a few hundred views. Kirstie, before she was famous, was friends with Mitch in high school. Kirstie and Mitch went to the same high school. _Kirstie_.

Scott pauses the video and opens a new tab. Mitch is notoriously private and secretive about things like where he’s from—Scott figured he was from Texas, based on the familiar accent and some of Mitch’s offhand comments about the weather and seeing concerts as artists were heading through Dallas and Houston—but Kirstie’s famous enough to have a Wikipedia page.

Scott’s not a stalker. He’s just… passionate.

Kirstin Taylor "Kirstie" Maldonado (born May 16, 1992), is an American fashion and beauty vlogger and YouTuber, blah blah blah—and was raised in Arlington, Texas.

Scott’s breath catches. He and Mitch are from the _same town_? He looks up community colleges in the area, because Mitch lived at home during college and only moved into his own place a few weeks ago—not that Scott kept track. He just remembers. Like he remembers that Mitch was studying music and graduated earlier this year.

She currently resides in Los Angeles with her two dogs.

Mitch moved to Los Angeles. Mitch moved _here_.

Scott forces himself to take a deep breath, calm down his racing heart, because it’s possible that Kirstie was just visiting home and Mitch found an apartment somewhere in Texas. It’s possible. But it’s much more likely that Mitch graduated from school and moved out to Los Angeles to pursue music.

Or maybe Scott’s just hoping.

He clicks back to the video and zones out while Kirstie brushes powders and glitter all over Mitch’s face. Scott’s brain is buzzing with excitement. He knows a secret. Something no one else knows about Mitch. Not that he’d ever leak that sort of information—and not that Mitch has enough fans to even care where he went to school or where he lives—but the knowledge is thrilling. Even more thrilling is the idea that he and Mitch could run into each other one day.

Los Angeles is a big city. It won’t happen. But it _might_. Arlington’s a much smaller city. Maybe Scott should fly home for the holidays.

The video nears its end, and the big reveal is less of a reveal and more just Mitch shuffling closer to the camera to admire Kirstie’s work in the view screen. There aren’t any cuts or close-ups or anything, just Mitch leaning in, tilting his head so the glitter catches the light. He runs his tongue lightly over his rosy, red lips and pouts, blows a kiss at the camera. In the background, Kirstie laughs and says, “You can keep the lipstick if you like it that much.”

Mitch looks stunning in Kirstie’s makeup, with her trademark heavily done-up eyes, and it’s clear he loves how it came out too. He compliments her work under the guise of admiring himself, then pulls her close, so their faces take up the whole screen. He plants a soft, weirdly sensual kiss on her cheek.

“Leave a comment if you want Mitch to do more collabs,” she says. “Maybe I can convince him to meet some of my friends.”

Mitch blows a raspberry. “Nope. Back to our regularly un-scheduled programming. I should have a haul video for y’all next week once I buy a bunch of shit for my apartment. It’s gonna look cute as hell. I can’t wait. Bye!”

The video ends just like that, no endscreen, no link to Kirstie’s channel, none of the “comment, like, subscribe” spiel that Scott’s accustomed to from other YouTubers. It’s one of the things Scott loves about Mitch. In all these years, he hasn’t changed much at all.

Scott lets YouTube autoplay some of Mitch’s related videos while he digs through his desk for a textbook. Most of Mitch’s popular videos are weird, long ASMR videos where he talks softly, close to the microphone, about a bunch of different objects like crystals and glasses and anime figurines. His fingernails make soft tapping and clinking noise as he touches them and shows the camera, and while the ASMR doesn’t actually do much for Scott, physically, he does enjoy letting Mitch’s smooth voice keep him company while he does his homework.

Two hours later, Scott’s finished copying out a study guide for his upcoming History of Film exam and writing an outline for his American Literature essay, and he’s fully absorbed in YouTube videos once more. He clicks on one of his favorites, a half-hour long haul video where Mitch brings out a ton of CDs and records and describes the music in detail.

It doesn’t matter how many times Scott watches this video, he’s always tickled by the enthusiasm in Mitch’s voice every time he takes something new out of his shopping bag. It’s not an ASMR video, so he’s talking in a normal voice, and he gets louder when he’s excited. He even breaks out into singing a few times, mimicking the vocal samples in his favorite new EDM tracks.

Back when Mitch first posted this video, Scott checked out all of his album recommendations. A lot of them weren’t really his thing, but he didn’t care, he listened to them anyway. The songs have grown on him, over time, and it’s fascinating to hear the words Mitch uses to describe trance beats that all sort of blend together for Scott. Somehow, Mitch finds these songs unique and interesting and genius, and Scott’s determined to appreciate them too.

The door opens and Kevin comes in, loudly talking on his phone and interrupting Scott’s daily “stare longingly at Mitch” session, and Scott quickly pauses the video and minimizes the browser.

“Are you watching ASMR again?” Kevin asks with a roll of his eyes.

Scott flushes red. Kevin’s only been his roommate for a month and a half. He really thought he’d kept his obsession with Mitch on the down low.

Thankfully, Kevin isn’t really paying attention to him. He’s listening to the person on the phone as he dumps his messenger bag on his bed and sits down to take off his shoes. After a while, he says goodbye and hangs up, and then his focus is fully on Scott.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of it, y’know,” he says. “I mean, I don’t _get it_ , but I’m not gonna judge.”

“It wasn’t ASMR,” Scott grumbles.

“So, listen,” Kevin says, brushing off Scott’s denial. “I’m going to this party later, and you should come. Meet some people. Get out of this room, y’know? Be social. With more than just your classmates.”

“I have friends,” Scott replies, pouting defensively.

“You can always use more. C’mon, I know you’re done with your homework if you’re watching weird YouTube videos. Come with me tonight. It’ll be fun.”

Scott agrees, mostly to get Kevn off his back, but also because Kevin’s right: he doesn’t get out much, and he can always use more friends. Maybe it will be fun.

***

That evening, Scott’s a couple drinks in and listening politely as a grad student explains her very complicated thesis. She’s studying philosophy, he thinks, and half the shit she’s saying is going right over his head, but Kevin chimes in with intelligent questions every now and then to keep the conversation going, and Scott is happy to let her voice wash over him.

He’s met a few people tonight, talked to a few more he recognized from past classes, and he’s kind of ready to be done with this party. Until he hears a familiar laugh from somewhere to his left.

He whips around, startled, and says, “Kirstie?”

He’s too loud. She hears him and turns, and he watches her plaster on a smile that doesn’t look completely genuine. Scott’s drawn toward her as if by a magnetic force, and as he approaches she says, “Hi, how are you!” in a bright, bubbly voice.

“Sorry, I just—I’m Scott. I recognized you from Mitch’s video.”

Her expression shifts into one of surprise. “You know Mitch?”

“No, I—Just his videos.” He shouldn’t have said that. He can feel a flush rising up the sides of his neck. His ears are burning.

Kirstie breaks into a real smile. “That’s awesome. I didn’t know he had fans. I mean, like… “

“No, I know,” Scott cuts in quickly. “He’s not really famous, I get it. I’m sorry for being weird and awkward and talking about him. It’s good to meet you, though. I’ll just—”

“No, no, no!” she says, grabbing Scott’s arm with both hands to keep him from walking away. “I don’t think he’s ever met a fan before, c’mere…”

Scott’s blood runs hot and then icy cold. He follows Kirstie’s gaze and sees Mitch across the room, standing against the wall with a drink held up to his face. He’s nodding at someone, listening while they talk, and he looks _beautiful_. Soft, fluffy hair, silver rings glinting around the red Solo cup. He’s smaller in person, slender and narrow, but taller than Scott expected, too. Even at the darkened edge of the room, he seems to glow.

Scott wrenches his arm out of Kirstie’s grasp. “I can’t, sorry, I have to go, I’m sorry…”

Before Kirstie can chase after him, Scott grabs Kevin with a hurried, “We gotta go, right now,” and ushers him to the door. He turns to look over his shoulder one last time before ducking out and he sees Kirstie and Mitch standing together. He’s leaning down to listen to her. She’s probably telling him all about her strange encounter with a crazy fan. Any second now she’s going to point Scott out and Scott will never be able to live down this terrible first impression. He has to leave, right now.

Kevin waits until they’re walking down the street alone before confronting him. “What the heck was that?”

Scott doesn’t know how to explain in a way that won’t make him seem like a stalker. He finally settles on, “I saw someone that I kind of know, and I didn’t want him to see me there. Sorry for rushing you out.”

Kevin forgives him, because he’s a good person, and then he starts offering advice on how to come to terms with a break-up, how to stay friends with exes, how to get over heartbreak, and Scott appreciates it, he really does, but none of Kevin’s well-meaning advice actually applies to his situation. It’s his own fault for being vague, though, so he keeps quiet.

***

**collab 2, the reckoning**

In the weeks following the almost-encounter, Scott has almost managed to push the awkwardness from his mind. He’s still a little on edge, hyper-aware that he could run into Mitch or Kirstie at any moment, but the anxiety about it has died down. Kirstie and Mitch probably don’t live that close to campus, considering they don’t actually go to school here, and Scott hardly ever leaves campus, so chances are slim that he’ll run into them on the street.

It’s been two and a half weeks since Mitch’s last video, the promised haul of knickknacks and small appliances for his new apartment. Really, if he was a little more consistent about posting content, his subscriber count would grow. Scott sometimes wishes he could manage Mitch’s channel for him, just to give him the following he deserves. He’s beautiful and talented and funny, and more people should appreciate him, that’s all.

“Hey guys,” says Mitch in the new video. He’s sitting on his bed, hunched over his computer and using the shitty webcam, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his forehead. The sleeves are covering his hands too, and his gestures seem lackluster. Scott leans closer to the screen, as if he could comfort Mitch that way.

“I’ve been a little sick lately. Not used to this new place, I guess. I kinda miss home. My parents’ home, I mean. I’ve lived there all my life, y’know? I just miss it, and my friends, and everything. But hey, I’m gonna be positive. Things are great. I actually vlogged a little bit with my friend Kirstin the other day, so… Sorry I don’t have a real video for you, but I’ll give you that footage, at least. I’ve got another ASMR video coming soon, once I get my mics set up in this new apartment. Maybe next week. Okay! Enjoy. Bye, guys!”

Without even a transition, the video cuts to an iPhone shot of Kirstie crouching down in the aisle of a makeup store, picking through a drawer full of lipsticks. She looks up and laughs. “Are you filming me?”

“Yeah, tell the world what you’re doing,” Mitch says from behind the camera.

“I’m picking out some colors for Mitchell,” Kirstie replies. “Since he liked the last lipstick I gave him so much, I figured he should have some variety.”

“Stop!” Mitch says, but Scott can hear the smile in his voice. “I want something vibrant, okay? Like, deep. Sultry. Sexy.”

“If you’re gonna be macking on boys, maybe we should get a brand that doesn’t transfer so much.”

The camera flips around to a close angle on Mitch’s face. He’s wearing a baseball cap and a leather jacket, and there’s stubble on his chin. It’s a little strange to see him looking so masculine. “I don’t even know what that means,” he says.

Kirstie draws his attention as she explains about lipstick rubbing off, but Mitch doesn’t move the camera from his face. It’s a candid moment, a brief few seconds he forgot he was filming himself, and Scott wants so badly to reach out and touch him. He wouldn’t mind Mitch’s lipstick transferring onto his own lips.

The video cuts again and this time it’s Kirstie filming. They’re at a mall, sitting in a food court, and there’s a couple of salads on the table between them. “I’m introducing Mitch to the LA lifestyle,” she says. “Vegan, gluten free, all that crap.”

“I wanted a pizza, honestly,” Mitch groans, but he eagerly shoves a bite of the salad into his mouth. “Wait, are you filming me? Stop!”

Scott laughs because Mitch is laughing, and the camera shakes with Kirstie’s echoing giggles. “We’ll get desert after this, I promise.”

“No, I’m committed now,” Mitch says haughtily. He shrugs his shoulders and twirls his fork in the air. “I’m gonna be a skinny LA girl.”

“You’re already a skinny girl. We’re getting ice cream.”

The bit ends abruptly and Mitch looks past the camera to Kirstie, his eyebrows lifted as the thought strikes him. “I need a new pair of sunglasses while we’re—”

The video cuts again. It’s a shot of Mitch’s hand as he brushes his fingers through a rack of colorful fur coats in a department store. In the background, Scott hears Kirstie’s muffled voice.

“—he recognized me but he said it was from your video, and I was like—”

Mitch turns, asking, “Was he cute?” He lets the camera drop and then then the vlog is over before Kirstie replies, leaving Scott staring at his computer screen with his heart in his throat.

***

Scott’s wandering the aisles, desperately hoping to run into someone who can answer his question before he drops the armful of shit he thought he could manage without a shopping cart. He rounds the corner and spots someone in a black shirt kneeling on the floor, digging around on the bottom shelf.

“Hey, do you know if—” The person turns to look up at him, and it’s not a sales associate. It’s Mitch. Mitch is right here, in front of him. On his knees. There’s a microphone in a box on his lap. Scott falters and something slips from his grasp, tumbling over his elbow.

Mitch catches it. He gets to his feet and tucks the pack of batteries back into Scott’s arms with a grin.

“Mitch,” Scott breathes. He shakes his head slightly. “I’m sorry, I thought you worked here.”

“I practically do, at this point,” Mitch replies. “I’m trying to set up a little home recording studio, but I keep thinking of more things I absolutely must have.”

Before Scott can come up with an intelligent reply—Mitch looks _stunning_ in real life, and his eyes are so warm and inviting—Mitch gives him a stricken glance and asks, “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m awful at this, I’m so sorry…”

“No, you’re fine, we haven’t met,” Scott hurries to assure him.

“Then how did you…” Comprehension dawns on Mitch’s face. He narrows his eyes at Scott, gives him a slow, sly smile. “You’re the guy, aren’t you? The tall blond from the party who recognized Kirstie.”

“I’m Scott.” His ears are burning hot with embarrassment. There’s no recovery now. He has to commit.

“I’m Mitch. I’d shake your hand, but yours look kinda full. You’re way hotter than Kirstie described you, by the way.”

That surprises a smile out of Scott. “Thanks,” he says. “So’re you. I mean, more beautiful in person.”

It’s Mitch’s turn to blush. The pink stain in his cheeks is pretty adorable on him. “I’ve never met someone who’s watched my videos,” he says; “I’m surprised anyone does, to be honest. They’re pretty shitty.”

“No, they’re great,” Scott gushes. “I’ve watched you for years.”

The creepiness of that statement hits him like a ton of bricks a few seconds too late, but before he can retract it, Mitch is beaming at him and saying, “Well, you have me at a disadvantage. Maybe we could, uh… Get dinner sometimes, and you can tell me about your life? Just so we’re on even footing.”

The awkwardness melts away and Scott gives him a genuine smile. For years, he’s wanted nothing more than to get to know the real Mitch, and this is his chance. Mitch’s brilliant, satisfied smile provides all the quiet confidence he needs.

“That’d be amazing.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
